I am very pleased and relieved tonight to be taxi-phone free.
If the telephone rings this evening it will only be Mark. It will not be some muppet who does not know exactly where he is but he’s on the side of a lake. There are a couple of trees and some cars parked, does that help?
It has made me remember, with painful clarity, why I much prefer not to take bookings. It is far less trouble just to sit on the taxi rank and wait for muppets to turn up all by themselves.
We gave up at around midnight, which is one of the more pleasing innovations brought about by bat-flu. There was a huge golden moon, so instead of ambling around the Library Gardens we chucked the dogs into the car and drove down to Miller Ground at the side of the lake, where we walked up the hill and watched the moon rise over the water.
It was all very spectacularly lovely. The sun had set, but the sky behind us was still faintly light above the distant fells, and the moon rose fat and gold and cast a radiant path of light over the black lake.
We could see Bowness in its little dip between the hills, a little patch of twinkling light in the vast darkness. It was easy to see why Arthur Ransome called it Rio. It looked exciting and sophisticated in the middle of the wild emptiness all around it.
We walked back to the car and Mark kissed me before we got in it. This made a passing taxi slow down, avid with curiosity in case he was doing a Matt Hancock, but when he realised it was only me being kissed he speeded up again.
We did not get up early this morning as a result.
We made ourselves still later by sitting in bed looking at pictures of pink dungarees on the mighty Internet, because Mark has offered to buy some for my birthday. We did not get up even after that, because Number One Daughter rang to tell us about her adventures. She is doing so very well at the moment. She got a First in her dissertation and she is trying to organise herself to get to America to compete in the World Championships for cross fit.
I think that this is about as successful as it is possible for any human being to be, and I am somewhat awed and humbled by her motivation. I think I am doing well if I remember to water the conservatory regularly and make more mayonnaise before we have run out.
The trip to America is being made horribly complicated by the need for the stupid bat flu injections, and it looks very much as though they will not be able to get them done in time.
I would like to go myself, but obviously it is so far off the scale of possibilities that I might as well be asking Elon Musk for a ride on his spaceship. Instead I have contented myself by offering the sort of support that involves looking after either the dog, or Ritalin Boy, or both, and possibly the cats if they promise not to run away. I think that this might not be quite as spectacularly exciting as having your family in the actual stadium, jumping up and down and cheering, but is probably more use in the long run.
Eventually we had to get up, because the dogs were standing with their legs crossed looking reproachful. We emptied them and then spent the next hour faffing about in the conservatory, which has turned into a jungle and needed some bondage applying to its exuberance.
I have attached a picture. You can see where we have added some aerial plant feeders. They are bark and moss. It is all very lovely and exciting.
After that it was time for work, how quickly that comes around. I went off to earn a living, and Mark went to fit the camper van carpet.
We are going to be setting off in a few days, that has come around jolly quickly as well.
I am looking forward to it very much indeed.
